


Awake Now And Rejoice

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: After death, Declarations Of Love, First Time, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Schmoop, Songs of Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrimbor awakens after death to find love and happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awake Now And Rejoice

**Author's Note:**

> This is for "I'm Sorry Celebrimbor" Month. 
> 
> There is a brief not terribly graphic scene of torture in this fic. I'm sorry about that, Celebrimbor. Otherwise, though, it's entirely love and fluffy things.

Death, after so long under torture, was like leaping from a burning building into cool waters. All the fire and pain ceased abruptly and Celebrimbor felt himself sinking down, cold and numb, into icy depths. He drifted and drifted, knowing nothing, only glad that he could feel no hurt any longer. His mind was very weary, tempest-tossed and breaking, but never broken. 

For a time uncountable there was only the coolness and the stillness, all around him, over him, within him. Then, slowly, he felt a fire begin to catch at him again, within his chest. A spark rose up inside him and he could feel himself gasping, trying to breathe. But all around him was a thickness like water and he could not catch his breath. His lungs began to burn. 

Panicked, he flailed outward with his hands, struggling against the unknown that he was wrapped in. It seemed an eternity of struggle, of pushing toward the faint light he could see behind his closed eyelids. His hands were desperate now, fighting upward as though he were truly underwater, and then abruptly, his wrists were caught in a firm grasp, a strong pair of hands against his own. 

"Come out of the darkness," a voice said, a firm yet sweet voice, vaguely familiar. "Hear my voice. Come back to the light." 

And swift and sure as if he had broken the surface of the water at last, he took in a breath and his eyes flew open. 

His first sight was of a domed ceiling, far overhead, a confused mass of pattern and colour spilling over it. Then a face came into view, leaning over him, and Celebrimbor caught the breath he had so recently regained. 

"Findaráto," he gasped. 

Finrod smiled at him, bringing the hands he held in his own back down to rest against Celebrimbor's chest. He did not let go and Celebrimbor was silently grateful for that. 

"You are safe now," he said. "I know you have suffered, but it is over, and you are home, Tyelpë." 

Celebrimbor took a deep breath, and then another, and a third, before he was ready to speak again. Finrod watched him in silence, eyes flickering from their joined hands up to Celebrimbor's face as though he was examining it, relearning it. 

"What happened?" Celebrimbor brought himself to say at last. "Did my folly doom all?" 

Finrod shook his head. "No, Tyelpë. All is well." He drew one of his hands from Celebrimbor's and raised it to his face, gently stroking the curve of Celebrimbor's cheek and jaw. "You were very brave, and your courage gave hope to others." He bent and kissed Celebrimbor's forehead, golden hair spilling down over Celebrimbor's face. Celebrimbor thrilled faintly at the touch, remembering long, long ago in Nargothrond, when even the touch of Finrod's hand against his own, be it ever so light or casual, was the hope of his waking hours and the subject of fevered dreams at night. 

He let his eyes slip closed, in utter weariness, as if being awake for even a moment was exhausting, and drifted in the delight of feeling one of Finrod's hands holding his own, and the other lying as if forgotten at his shoulder, anchoring his spirit to the fragile earth. 

"Sleep," Finrod's voice said above him, very soft. "I will be here when you awake." 

\-------

Celebrimbor dreamed. 

Wherever Annatar touched him now, wearing the Ring, there was a black scar, burned, marked flesh. And Annatar - Sauron - was taking great delight in touching him, pressing golden fingers to every sensitive place on his naked body, one by one. 

"Tell me," he said calmly, prodding with two fingers at the inside of Celebrimbor's wrist, smiling at his gasp of pain. "Where are the Rings? The Seven, the Nine, the Three? Where did you hide them?"

"I'll never - " Celebrimbor broke off with a shout of pain as Sauron pressed his fingers firmly into the palm of his hand, holding steady until Celebrimbor could smell burning flesh, could see the white charred ash of his own skin drifting away on the breeze.

"Wrong answer," Sauron said. "You will." The burning fingers went on touching him, delicate in some places, rough in others. 

Celebrimbor was sobbing, screaming with pain, bright lights exploding behind his closed eyes, mind writhing under the torment. He did not know how much longer he could hold out - would soon be confessing everything just for the pain to stop. 

Over the burning in his mind a cool breeze seemed to drift, and he sank into it, clung to the shifting wind of it, gentle and calm. A faint voice seemed to be borne on it, and he listened with all his might, the sensations in his body fading away. It was a beloved voice, a familiar voice, filled with power and beauty, and the sound of it pierced through all the pain and sorrow. 

At first there was only the voice, singing faintly, and he could not make out the words. But as the dream of pain faded from him, the voice became louder, clearer, and he made his way toward it, wafting on the breeze. And at last he was close enough to hear the words, to feel his hand being held, to understand the beauty and power of the song. 

_Wake now, great heart, beloved Celebrimbor_   
_For the Ring of Sauron is gone now forever_   
_And his dark tower is thrown down._

_Awake now and rejoice, come out from the darkness!_   
_Your endurance has not been in vain,_   
_Your vengeance has been won,_   
_And your life has renewed hope,_   
_And you are victorious._

_Awake and be glad, you have come now to the West,_   
_For you at last are home again,_   
_And shall dwell here in peace_   
_All the days of your life._

_And your hope that was withered shall be renewed_   
_And you shall find it where you did not seek,_   
_And may it be blessed!_

With a sigh, Celebrimbor awoke to find Finrod's hand in his, still under the high dome of the many-coloured ceiling, the barrier of death between himself and the pain of torture. "Is it true?" he said. "He is defeated?"

"Yes," Finrod answered, and smiled. 

"Tell me of it," Celebrimbor said, not quite pleading. He could feel his body coming back into focus, and realised that he was lying on a soft bed underneath a warm blanket, and that he was completely whole, refreshed and restored. With a mental jolt he discovered that he was not wearing anything on his body aside from the blanket, and the contact with Finrod's hand, the sight of that well-remembered, beloved face, with its wealth of golden hair spilling down, was awakening him. The physical arousal was a shock to his senses, nerves that felt dead and numb suddenly awakening to new life and passion. 

"All tales in their proper time," Finrod said softly. Not letting go of Celebrimbor's hand, he reached across to a nearby table just out of Celebrimbor's line of sight and brought back a glass of water. Celebrimbor took it with a hand that was not quite steady, and Finrod supported him, helping him sit up a little and drink the water. 

It was cool and refreshing, and Celebrimbor felt as though he was a little more awake, after. He managed to tear his eyes away from Finrod's face and glanced around. The room they were in was not large, but beautifully decorated, painted with abstract shapes in all the colours of the rainbow. It was dimly lit, though through the closed curtains Celebrimbor could sense a bright sun and warmth. 

"This is one of the healing rooms of Estë," Finrod said. "You were brought to Lorien from the Halls of Mandos, not yet awakened, and have lain here many days, in need of rest and recovery from all your sufferings. I awoke here in this room, too, long ago." 

"How long has it been since I...?" Celebrimbor could not quite complete the sentence. Finrod's eyes were sympathetic; he reached out and placed a hand on Celebrimbor's bare shoulder. The touch was sweet and comforting, and yet almost madly arousing at the same time. Celebrimbor shifted subtly. 

"Thousands of years, dear heart," Finrod said. "You needed the time. When the summons came to Tirion, we could scarce believe it." 

"Why did you come for me?" Celebrimbor said, and then, hastily, "I am glad that you did, but what of my father? My mother? My uncles?" 

Finrod shook his head; his hand fell away from Celebrimbor's shoulder in favour of gently stroking down his arm. "Your father and mother have not yet returned from the Halls. Of your uncles, only three have returned: the twins, and Maedhros, and none of them are in contact with Tirion. We know vaguely that Maedhros dwells with Fingon in a remote part of the isle of Tol Eressea, but he has only returned recently, and would not be able to bear the mental strain of assisting you in your journey back. And the twins wander in the wilds, as was ever their preference; we have not heard from them in years. So when the summons came, I felt it right that I should go." He smiled softly, stroking the inside of Celebrimbor's wrist with his thumb, over and over, and his gaze dropped. "Besides, you were once one of mine," he said, flushing slightly. 

"In Nargothrond, an age ago," Celebrimbor breathed, driven almost to the point of madness by Finrod's touch on his wrist, delicate and teasing. 

"Two ages," Finrod said softly, not looking up. His golden hair was falling about his face, and the faint flush on his cheeks was still present. 

"Not all the ages of this world could make me cease being yours," Celebrimbor said, reaching out and pushing a lock of Finrod's hair behind his ear. Finrod's breath caught. 

"Is that so?" he said, catching Celebrimbor's hand as he withdrew it. 

"Yes," said Celebrimbor, and then faintly, "please," and Finrod looked up. Their eyes met, and Celebrimbor found himself moving without thinking about it much, taking Finrod's mouth in a longed-for kiss. 

Finrod let out a faint gasp, and responded instantly, his arms going around Celebrimbor, holding him tight and warm. The kiss was long and tender. Celebrimbor felt like he was melting under it, and then realised that he was, in fact, sinking back into the bed, Finrod following him down, their mouths clinging together. 

"You are still weak," Finrod said, drawing back from him a little. "You should rest." 

Celebrimbor lifted a hand, trying to tug Finrod back down. "Lie down with me." 

Finrod bit his lip, gave Celebrimbor a long searching gaze, and then nodded. He moved away for a moment, and Celebrimbor could see him removing his jewellery, belt, and boots, and finally, his tunic and leggings. Naked, he lay down next to Celebrimbor and wrapped his arms around him. 

Celebrimbor tugged the covering blanket out from between them, and draped it over Finrod as well, snuggling closer. The feel of Finrod's skin against his own was as delightful as he ever could have imagined, and Finrod's hand smoothed down his back, caressing him softly and slowly, murmuring gentle endearments. 

"I did not imagine, those years ago, that you ever looked on me like this," Celebrimbor said. "I thought you loved another, Amarië of the Vanyar, who would not go with you." 

"My heart changed," Finrod said. "But even I did not know it, until I woke on this shore, sundered from you." He pressed a kiss to Celebrimbor's shoulder. "I was relieved to find that in my absence, her heart had changed too, and she is now happily wed to another. For me, I did not know after what long stretch of time I should behold your face again." He sighed softly, and Celebrimbor slid a hand into his hair, stroking it back gently. "And I did not know if you maybe loved another yourself." 

"There has never been anyone else in my heart but you," Celebrimbor said, and Finrod kissed him again, warm and slow. Finrod's hair spilled down over them both, shutting them into a golden-curtained world composed entirely of breath and kisses that seemed to go on for hours. Celebrimbor arched up toward Finrod, and Finrod's hand slid down his chest and belly, finally ending up resting on his hip, so close to where Celebrimbor needed Finrod's touch. He shifted, trying to convey his needs without releasing Finrod's mouth from his own. 

"Patience, patience, beloved," Finrod said, laughing a little against his mouth. 

"I have had more than a thousand years' worth of patience," Celebrimbor said, a hint of a growl entering his voice, and then fading as he went on, "and to my memory I have just had a very annoying and unpleasant interlude with someone you might recall."

Finrod laughed softly against his shoulder. "Oh, there is such a tale to tell you, my love, when you are ready to hear it! The _Downfall of the Lord of the Rings and the Return of the King_ is Tirion's - nay, all of Valinor's - most popular tale, at the moment." He raised his head again, looking down at Celebrimbor with a soft smile. "But perhaps you are right, and you have been patient enough." 

Celebrimbor could take no more delay. He reached up, pushing his fingers into Finrod's hair, and dragged him back down again, kissing him hard, pulling him halfway on top of himself, desperate with need. Finrod groaned against his mouth, and Celebrimbor could feel his erection pressed hard against his hip. 

"You feel so good," Celebrimbor said with a gasp, and Finrod's caught breath and shifting movement was answer enough. Finrod's hips thrust against his own, their cocks pressed against each other, and Celebrimbor closed his eyes in wonder to feel it, arching up against Finrod, approaching his peak far too fast. 

Finrod made a faint ecstatic sound and Celebrimbor had to open his eyes, had to see the look on Finrod's face. Finrod's eyes were closed, his mouth open, a look of pure bliss on his face. It was at that look that Celebrimbor could no longer hold back and had to come, crying out "Findaráto!" 

At the sound of his name, Finrod's eyes flew open and he cried out wordlessly, spilling between them, ecstasy painted on his face, breathless and full of happiness. His head dropped to nuzzle against Celebrimbor's shoulder, and they lay there together, breathing hard, for a long moment, Celebrimbor's arms around Finrod, warm and close. 

Finrod, at last, kissed Celebrimbor's neck, and carefully moved off of him, giving him an appraising look. "How are you?" he asked. "You were yet weary, I do not know if that was...advisable." 

Celebrimbor gave him a smile, sweet and fierce. "I feel like I could do anything at all, now," he said. "I am alive, and awake, and with you; what more do I need?"


End file.
